


The Sacrifice

by mvernet



Category: Hogan's Heroes
Genre: 2019 Short Story Speed Writing Challenge, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired in part by Richard Harris in A Man Called Horse, Lakota Heritage, Lakota Sundance, Spies & Secret Agents, spiritual beliefs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 21:39:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19281691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvernet/pseuds/mvernet
Summary: A code book is compromised. A wolf is in the fold. A letter from home prompts a sacrifice.





	The Sacrifice

Hogan laid the codebook down on the desk, and grinned. “We’re gonna make sure that code book is delivered. And that will give us just the diversion we need.”

Hogan paced his cramped quarters, absently tapping a thumb on his lips. Hogan suddenly stopped short and snapped his fingers. 

Carter had fallen asleep with his head resting on the desk. He startled to attention, bumping into Newkirk, who in turn, knocked the coffee pot off the table. Kinch made a flying leap to catch it and landed on the hard floor cradling the listening device in his nimble hands. Kinch carefully looked it over, then turned it off. He noticed something small and metallic was stuck under the table. He gasped as he recognized a bugging device similar to the one he had put in Klink's office hidden in the picture of Hitler giving a speech. Someone was listening. Kinch reached out a hand to a bemused Hogan who suddenly grew concerned. “You okay, Kinch?”

Kinch nodded, and at the same time waved a hand, catching everyone's eye. He pulled Hogan down and pointed to the listening device. Hogan got Kinch to his feet and Kinch put the pot back on the desk. He said loudly, “You know being a prisoner of war is a very dangerous branch of the service. Watch what you’re doing, Newkirk!”

Kinch pointed under the desk and Newkirk and LeBeau both looked at the bug, catching on immediately.

Newkirk swelled with false indignity. “Wha’ you yellin’ at me for? It was this balmy Yank that was sleeping on the job.” Newkirk jostled Carter’s arm. Carter looked at him like he was a bomb fuse he’d never encountered before. Newkirk dragged him away from the desk and whispered into his ear, “There’s a bloody microphone planted under the desk. Careful what you say.”

Carter blinked owlishly. He nodded and looked up at Colonel Hogan who cleared his throat, and pointed at the door. The team followed him quietly out of the barracks and into the bright sunshine of the morning. Hogan began to pace again. It was only a matter of time before the spy who bugged them met with his contact and revealed what he had learned. Hogan paled with alarm at the possible implications of the bug.

 

Carter sat wearily on the rickety bench outside barracks two. Newkirk sat next to him, eyeing his friend with concern. LeBeau had one leg up on the bench and was watching Kinch who was flinching as he rubbed his elbow.

Hogan stopped pacing and shook his head. He stood next to Kinch and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You okay, bud? That was a nasty fall.”

“Oh, yeah, Sir. Hit my funny bone. The only funny thing about this.”

Look saw the look of defeat on his men’s faces. “Okay, so we let a spy get under our defences. We can deal with this. He can’t have been here long. The spy must be a new prisoner. Who do we have that we haven’t examined yet?”

Kinch volunteer, “Davis, Sandburg and Martin.”

LeBeau shook his head. “Non. Not Davis. I have spoken to Davis at some length. He is from Louisiana and cooks the native foods of the French Quarter as he calls it, Cajan. He speaks French of a sort. He is no spy.”

Kinch added, “And Sandburg was a Rabbi back home in New Jersey. Has a thick accent. He showed me his prayer book and yarmulke he has hidden in his foot locker. Asked permission to hold Shabbat services in secret next Friday.”

“Oh boy, Sir. This is all my fault.” Carter had his eyes closed again and was leaning against Newkirk who had flung an arm over his shoulder when he felt his friend tilt towards him with weariness.

Hogan frowned and held up a hand. “Hold on, Carter. LeBeau, take a quick look around. We know someone was listening earlier.”

Carter closed his eyes again at his Colonel’s command. Newkirk felt Carter’s forehead. “Blimey, Colonel, ‘e’s a bit warm and ‘e’s shakin like a leaf.”

LeBeau ran back slightly out of breath. “No sign of anyone, Colonel.”

Carter opened his eyes and straightened. “It’s Jerry Martin, he’s the spy. I just wish I’d figured it out sooner. I was so stupid. Jerry is the guy who arrived after we rescued those downed men flying the Hawker Hurricane. Remember? They were doing reconnaissance for the refinery raid two weeks ago.” It seemed like it took all of Carter’s strength to get the words out of his mouth. He took a deep breath and seemed to fade.

Hogan kneeled in front of Carter and put a hand on his knee. “Sure, Carter. I remember him. His Captain and the rest of the crew were torn apart thinking they had lost their young navigator. They didn’t want to go to London without his body.”

“Yeah,” Carter took another deep breath and shivered. “Kinch and me searched the area but couldn’t find the body or his chute. Not a trace. The German’s must have taken the poor guy’s body and given Jerry his dog tags and uniform.”

Kinch frowned and added, “Then he turns up a few days after his team escaped to London, with just a few bruises and scratches. Says he was knocked out by a tree branch after he jumped out of the plane. Woke up, got out of the tree and buried his chute. Said the guards picked him up when he got lost in the woods near camp.”

Hogan nodded. “He fooled us all, Carter. When he arrived all he kept asking about was whether we had heard if the rest of his crew had made it. I felt so bad for him, I told him I heard a rumor from the guards that they had all escaped. He really seemed sincerely relieved. The bastard played us like a penny kazoo.”

“Actor, Jerry is an actor. I think that part is true. Sir, I think he might be working for Hochstetter.”

“What?” Hogan stood up. “Carter! What the hell is going on? Did… did he hurt you?”

Carter stood on shaky legs and muttered, “S... Sundance, Sir.” Carter’s eyes rolled back in his head as he collapsed into Hogan’s arms.

~~HH~~

Carter was resting in the infirmary, with Newkirk by his side. Scotty Wilson, the camp medic, fussed with Carter’s IV. Hogan waited by the foot of Carter’s bed. “What’s going on with him, Wilson?”

“As far as I can tell, he’s suffering from exhaustion. He’s severely dehydrated, he’s lost weight like he’s been starving himself, and somehow he’s managed to get a case of sunstroke. His upper body has a bad sunburn, giving him a mild fever.”

Hogan rubbed at his tired eyes. “Look, Wilson. We think Jerry Martin is Hochstetter’s spy. Do you think he could have poisoned Carter? Or tortured him for information?”

“He has no symptoms of poisoning. There are no signs of violence or force. The torture seems to be self-imposed.”

“Martin could ‘ave threatened to ‘ave us shot. Carter would rather die than let that ‘appen.” Carter moaned and Newkirk placed his palm on Carter’s brow. “Easy there, Andrew.”

Wilson nodded towards his patient. “He’ll come around soon. The saline drip is working.”

Carter moaned again. He moved his arms in a feeble attempt to get up.

Newkirk gently held him down. “Andrew, take it easy, mate. Just open your eyes.”

“Peter? Wha’?”

“There. There, now. You’re okay. Just get your bearings. You passed out. You’re in the infirmary. Nice and safe, like a bug in a rug.”

“Bug? Peter! Jerry’s a spy. I… I should have known.”

Hogan pulled up a metal stool so he could look Carter in the eyes. “Andrew. Tell us what happened. What does Sundance mean?”

Carter nodded slowly. “At last weeks mail call I got a letter from my cousin Angry Rabbit.”

“Angry wrote to tell me the elders of our tribe decided to rescind the order against Sundances to hold one in my honor. A Sundance is done as a sacrifice to insure the protection of the tribe. In the past it was terribly painful. The dancers pierce the skin of the chest and attach the piercings to a pole and dance for three days while fasting. They don’t do the piercings anymore, but they do the fasting and the dance in the hot sun. My cousin wrote that he petitioned for a Sundance because he wanted me to have the protection of the tribe while I suffer for their sakes as a prisoner of war.” Carter sighed deeply. “My cousin is very passionate about the old ways. To think of him, and… and the others doing that for me well…” Carter turned away embarrassed by his emotions. Newkirk silently handed him a handkerchief.

Hogan asked gently. “How does Jerry Martin come into this?”

“I was sitting on that big boulder behind Klink’s office . It’s my thinking spot, you know. It’s a good one. I think of all kinds of good stuff there.”

Hogan patted Carter’s leg again to get him focused. “You were telling us about Martin, Andrew.”

“Oh, sorry, Sir. Well I was sitting on the boulder reading my letter and I guess I got upset. Jerry came over and introduced himself. He asked if I had bad news from home. Jerry was real friendly. He told me he was an actor back home in L.A., that he was in, _The Grapes Of Wrath,_ played the third bum on the breadline, and he knew Henry Fonda, personally. I was impressed, Sir. Stupid, I know.” Carter took a raspy breath and licked his dry lips.

“Drink this, mate.” Newkirk helped Carter drink a glass of water before he let him continue.

“Thanks, Peter. Anywho, Jerry got to me. I found myself telling him about the Sundance in my honor and how… how much it meant to me. He suggested I could do it myself, here in the camp in secret. So I decided to start it at the full moon, the same time as Angry Rabbit. Kinda be with him in spirit. When I got up to go back to the barracks I saw Jerry staring at Hochstetter. Not saying anything, just staring. I watched a minute to make sure Jerry wasn’t going to be interrogated or something worse. But Hochstetter just smiled, that was creepy, and Jerry walked away. I should have known then. I’m so sorry, Colonel Hogan.”

“It’s alright, Carter. but I wish you’d have come to me after you got that letter. I’m in charge of a lot of men with a lot of different beliefs. We could have worked something out, or at least kept an eye on you while you fasted.”

“I know that now, I’m sorry, Sir. Jerry insisted I keep it secret. That was three days ago. I did it. I sacrificed to protect my tribe, I mean, you guys.” Carter smiled shyly and Newkirk gave him a gentle push.

“If I catch you keeping secrets again, I’ll kick your arse from ‘ere to Bullfrog, Andrew. You 'ad us worried sick.” 

Carter sat up despite Newkirk’s clucking. “That lousy spy doesn’t understand the power of the Sundance, Sir. Mother Nature’s so powerful when she wants to be. And Jerry Martin or whoever he is, just called down her wrath on his head.”

Hogan grinned broadly. “Oh, this will be good.”

~~HH~~

 

Carter sat behind the cooler in the same spot he’d been sitting in for the last three days. Only this time, he kept his jacket on, had a belly full of oatmeal, and drank so much water that he sloshed when he walked. He was watching the intermediate puffs of smoke, that meant Newkirk was anxiously watching him from behind the dog pound.

The crunching sound of boots on gravel, made him look up as Jerry Martin joined him.

“Hey, pal! I haven’t seen you around this morning. What's cookin'?”

“I'm not feeling so hot, Jerry. I didn’t think fasting… would hurt so much.”

Jerry slung an arm around Carter. In the distance a large puff of smoke indicated another cigarette lit by a nervous Newkirk. Carter smiled, thinking, if Newkirk was an undercover spy they would need to take his smokes away. He brought his attention back to the spy next to him.

“Colonel Hogan has an assignment for you, Jerry. I told him you were a great actor. You see, we sometimes help out the underground, if we happen to hear about anything going down. We need you to play the part of an undercover spy. You know, someone posing as a prisoner who is actually a German spy.”

Jerry tried to cover his surprise, ”Gee whiz. The Colonel wants me to play a spy? Well, sure. I could do that. What does he want me to do?”

“You need to meet the agent that is meeting Werniger, you’ve seen Werniger, that tall guy visiting Klink. Werniger is waiting to get his hands on a code book that cracks all our transmitted codes” 

Jerry shifted nervously and patted the code book hidden in his pocket lining. Carter pretended not to notice.

“We want you to meet the agent who has the code book. And give him a fake transcript of new updated codes.” Carter reached in his coat and pulled out the folded papers Kinch had fabricated. He handed them to Jerry. “They will hopefully cause a distraction. But in reality, a universal halt code has been sent out by London. All activity, all missions have been halted. This is a real setback. We might not recover.” 

“Oh, sure we will, Andrew. Those lousy Krauts will never win this war, right? We got God on our side.”

Carter bristled a little at that. He rubbed at his face to hide his anger. “Yeah, well. Now I know why I needed to make this Sundance sacrifice. We need all the help we can get. This is a big deal. Germany could launch an offensive now, and we’d be sunk. It’s important we give London at least some time to get back into the action. We’ll get you out of camp at twenty-one hundred hours. You’ll meet the agent on the main road, outside the camp at twenty-two hundred hours. Give him the fake new codes.”

“Sounds, good, pal o' mine. I tell the agent I’m deep undercover, give him the fake updated codes and then… I skedaddle outta there.”

 

Carter decided to try out his own acting skills. “Ohhh, Jerry. I’m so tired and thirsty. My belly hurts. I feel like I’m dying.”

Jerry hid a smirk. One or two days more of this and the American would be beyond saving. He hoped Carter’s death would handicap Hogan’s operation and his acting job win him a place on Hitler’s own theatre troupe. “Hang in there, pal. You should keep it up, you know? Until the mission is over. Another two days at least. Make the folks back home proud. Here, “ Jerry scooted over, “Lean against me. There you go.”

Carter moaned pitifully.

Jerry ignored the painfilled sound. “Say, Carter. Tell me. Is this a big operation? Is Hogan like the big cheese around here?”

“Owww. Don’t know wha’ you’re t...talkin’ about.”

“Come on, man. Now that I’m on a mission, that means you guys trust me, right?”

“Yeah.” Carter said weakly.

“Then tell me about what goes on around here. I’m gonna risk my neck tonight. I deserve to know the down and dirty. Get me?” 

Carter snorted into Jerry’s shoulder. He wondered if Jerry learned an American accent from Abbott and Costello movies . “Hogan? Naaaaa. Hogan’s just a flunky. I shouldn't tell you this, but you've been such a good friend. It’s Klink who’s the mastermind. Double agent. The most notorious spy in the world. He acts like a bumbling clown and gets information from everyone. Important agents talk right in front of him like he isn’t even there. Look at Werniger, setting up his control center in camp. Played right into his hands. And Hochstetter! Klink keeps him so confused, he can’t see straight. Klink loves to make him blow his top! It was Klink’s idea to have a universal halt code. He came up with ‘Hitler has blue balls’, great sense of humor too.”

Suddenly, there was a puff of smoke and Newkirk was standing in front of Carter. “‘ello, Jerry. ‘eard you’re on the team now. Good luck to you. What’s wrong with me mate?”

“Oh, he’s okay. Just something he ate. You know how bad the grub is around here. He should probably not eat anything for a couple of days. Clean out his system.”

Newkirk fought the urge the clean the spy’s clock and innocently blew smoke in his face instead. “Well, best I ‘elp ‘im to his bunk then. See you later, Jerry.”

Carter moaned with great gusto.

“Oh, sure, Yeah, later, Newkirk.” Jerry jumped up and walked quickly back towards barracks six. Newkirk got Carter to his feet.

“I’m alright, Peter. I didn’t need to be rescued. I was just acting a little myself. He bought it all. Hook, line and sinker.”

“Good job, Camille. Let’s go get you some lunch. Louis made your favorite.”

“French-style, Beanie Weenies? Oh, boy. Oh, boy.”

~~HH~~

Kurt Hochstetter walked along the moonlit road, chuckling softly with pleasure at his performance. He had been a little taken aback when Hogan and the others took him into the dog compound and raised a doghouse to reveal a tunnel that lead right to the other side of the barbed wire fence surrounding the camp. They warned him about the searchlights, that were easy enough to hide from. 

It had rained earlier and a mist lingered at the low spots on the dirt road. A wind kicked up and young Hochstetter shivered in his borrowed bomber jacket. Borrowed from a dead man. He shook his head and tried not to let the eerie sounds on the wind get to him. He was an extraordinary actor and a spy, not a child. He was going to make his Uncle so proud.

There was rustling sounds all around him. It was as if the wind was telling the forest creatures to pay heed to the stranger in their midst. The more Kurt tried to rid his mind of childish fears. The more the ghost stories of his youth, haunted him. Wolpertingers could be in the underbrush and Werewolves waiting in the shadows. Lightning flashed and the wind gusted. Kurt stumbled, frightened by the force of nature. 

Suddenly the pitch of the wind voices changed the chanting of ancient warriors with drum beats rumbling across the night sky. And here Kurt was, a spy who had perverted a sacred rite to hurt one of the tribe’s own and was walking in a dead man’s clothes on his way to do yet another evil deed.

“No!” he said out loud to comfort himself with his own voice. “What nonsense. Carter’s tall tales have fired my imagination. It is a curse, of all artistic types, I know. It is not a long walk to the main road. I will be fine.”

Kurt began to jog and was out of breath when he reached the main road. A dark car adorned with nazi flags, was waiting. His Uncle emerged as the wind whistled around him sending dry leaves and sand into his eyes.

Hochstetter flung a hand at the wind as if to dismiss it and joined his trembling nephew on the road. Hochstetter embraced him briefly then took a good look at him. “What is wrong? You look like you have seen a ghost.”

“Nothing, Uncle. Nothing. I can handle anything on the stage, but I am not used to the excitement of espionage." 

“Ahhh. Yes, my boy. But you have done an amazing job. Uhh, you do have the code book. Hogan did not find you out?”

“No, Uncle. Things went better than planned I have the code book and so much more!”

Kurt reached into the dreaded coat and handed his Uncle the book and the transcript. “The code book is useless! London won’t be sending any more messages using this code. I have much to tell. I managed to bug Hogan’s office and heard their plans.”

“Hogan, yes. At last! Tell me everything! What are these papers?”

“Ahhh, Uncle they completely trusted me. They sent me tonight to intercept… myself actually… and tell the agent… me again… that the book is compromised and the transcript contains the correct code. But it doesn’t. It is a fake.”

“Wunderbar. This is better than I hoped. I can give this transcript to Werniger. He will look like a fool when I reveal it is a fake.”

“That is not all, my Uncle. A universal halt code has been issued. It puts an end to all missions immediately. London is paralysed! It is time to strike!”

“A universal halt code? Is Hogan such a major player that he can end all missions?”

“No, Uncle. Not him. He is nothing but a drone. I… incapacitated one of his men, who in his weakened state, told me everything. It is Klink who is behind it all. You were on the right track with Hogan, but he is nothing. Hogan was protecting Klink, the master double agent.”

“What? Are you insane? Klink? That sniveling oaf? Wait… I have always said no one could be that stupid. You are sure of this information?”

“Oh, yes. The man who told me was completely under my control, unto death.”

“Amazing! My boy, you are a necromancer, a Svengali!”

Kurt bowed before his Uncle dramatically. “I am an actor!”

Another car, Klink’s personal car, pulled up beside Hochstetter’s. In the back was Klink and Werniger. Two of Werniger’s men were crammed into the front seat with Sergeant Schultz driving.

Werniger jumped out, quickly flanked by his men as he stormed over to Hochstetter and his nephew . The wind mimicked the _Regierungsdirektor’s_ movements and the sky lit up with lightning to highlight the scene. Schultz shook his head at the typical drama of the Gestapo and got out to open the door for Klink. He steadied the slightly inebriated _Kommandant_ who had been steadily sipping at his hip flask of Schnapps. Klink took one more swig and offered it to his long suffering Sergeant with a wink. Schultz shrugged and took a long swallow. Then they watched the theatrics, keeping to the shadows.

“Hochstetter! What are you doing here? Where is my contact? I will have your head if you have compromised this mission.”

Kurt cleared his throat. “ _Regierungsdirektor,_ I am your contact. I am also _Herr_ Hochstetter’s nephew, Kurt. I have been in deep cover as a prisoner at Stalag Thirteen. I am a civilian and will answer only to my Uncle. I have delivered the code book to him, useless as it may be.”

“What? Useless? What are you talking about? Give me the book, Hochstetter!” He put out his hand. The guards fidgeted with their guns behind him.

Another gust of wind sent a swirling mist that seemed to surround the angry men. Klink leaned into Schultz. “That young man looks familiar. Where have I met him before?” 

“Try to follow, _Herr Kommandant._ That is Hochstetter's nephew. He has been posing as a prisoner.”

Klink started to giggle, but brought a hand to his mouth. “Oh, Hogan will be livid!”

“I think Hogan is up to monkey business. Now, listen, Sir. Humm, this should be good.”

Hochstetter began to pace, a smug smile on his face. “I have the code book. I also have this!” Hochstetter flourished the false document in front of Werniger’s face. He grasped it firmly as the wind tried to take it from his hand. Werniger grabbed it and read the first page quickly.

“Codes. New codes. Are you saying that London has already changed the codes?”

Kurt nodded, looking at his Uncle, who beamed at him. He knew to keep the more important information to himself. “Yes, Sir.”

Werniger stared at the papers in his hand for a long moment ignoring the cries of the wind. But Kurt was getting more and more terrified, imagining he was hearing his own name whispered accusingly in the tree tops.

The sound of yet another car joining them drew everyone's attention. General Burkhalter’s car lined up with the others. Klink whispered to Schultz. “Isn’t this a clandestine rendezvous? Those three will outblow the wind when they get started. Hitler will hear them in Berchtesgaden.”

“Please, Sir. Don’t make me laugh!” Klink sniggered and handed Schultz the flask again. He quickly took a sip.

The General let his annoyance be felt as he joined the circle of men in the road. “What is going on? Why have you been keeping me waiting?”

Hochstetter saw his chance. “ _Herr General,_ this is my nephew, Kurt. He has been undercover at Stalag Thirteen and has information of the utmost importance for you.”

The General looked Kurt up and down. “Yes, this is the actor, correct? I have seen you perform in Hammelburg. Give me the code book, young man. You have our thanks.” Kurt looked at his Uncle.

“Sir,” said Kurt. “The code book will do you no good because…”

Werniger interrupted. “Because I have the new codes right here,” he said triumphantly.

“What? Oh, good, good. That is quick work, Werniger. Your superiors will be pleased.”

Hochstetter butted in. “Not so pleased when they find the new codes are false!”

The General’s face could be seen turning red even in the moonlight. “Weniger! What is this game you are playing? I will not be made a fool of!”

Kurt nodded. “It’s true! The new codes are false. A ruse to confuse us and to buy more time. The important information I have for you, _Herr General,_ is that London has issued a universal halt code and has aborted all missions. We have brought them to their knees!”

The General slowly smiled. He threw an arm around Kurt. “Ride back with me, young man. We will give the news to my colleagues. I think a celebration will be in order. Follow us back to Klink’s quarters, Hochstetter, we will have that little Frenchman fix us some h’orderves.”

Hochstetter leaned in and whispered in his nephew’s ear. “Keep Klink’s identity secret for a little while longer. Let us enjoy tonight’s victory. At his expense.” He then said loudly, for the General’s benefit. “Tell us, my dear nephew. What was the universal halt code you so cleverly intercepted?”

“Hitler has blue balls, Uncle.” 

The General stopped and gave Hochstetter a glare. “Ummm. Kurt, perhaps you should keep that to yourself.”

Schultz and Klink were shaking with silent laughter, as Werniger and his men climbed dejectedly into Klink’s car.

Hochstetter’s car was the last to leave. Hogan, Carter and Newkirk, hidden in the mists on the side of the road and privy to everything that went on, watched as Hochstetter got into his car. The code book was in his hand. Thunder rumbled like ancient drums and a white mist seemed to take the phantom form of a Sioux Chieftain. The code book flew out of Hochstetter’s hand, taken by the wind. The phantom seemed to lift his arm and touched the book that tore in pieces and fluttered across the forest canopy. Hochstetter shrugged with annoyance and got into his car. The mist receded and the wind calmed.

“Holy…” said Hogan

“Core, blimey,” said Newkirk

“Heck, who’d believe that even in wartime?” said Carter.

~~Epilogue~~

The next morning Hogan fairly skipped towards Klink’s office. He greeted Helga with a rose he swiped from last night’s impromptu celebration in Kinch’s quarters. She smiled coyly as Hogan barged into Klink’s office. Klink looked up bleary-eyed, but seemed somewhat pleased to see him.

“Hogan? Sit down. I have a question for you.”

“Certainly, Sir.” He sat, reached for a breakfast pastry from Klink’s plate and leaned back to enjoy it.

“Is insanity contagious?”

“Well, Sir. It does run in families.”

“That is true. Late last night, before everyone left the party. The General got a call that an oil refinery was blown up, after all defensive measures were called off. As a matter of fact, all of Germany was ravaged by bombers last night.”

“Well, sorry, Sir, but hurray for our side.”

“I can’t think how that could have happened. But the strange part was that Werniger started shouting and tried to arrest Hochstetter and his nephew as traitors. Kurt, seemed to suffer a nervous breakdown, screaming about ghost warriors, dead navigators, talking coffee pots and Wolpertinger’s coming to eat him. He was obviously driven insane by working for his Uncle, he even accused me of being a spy!”

“No!”

“Oh, yes!”

“Then the General started bellowing at Werniger, Hochstetter and Kurt. Had them all arrested! I’m afraid I don't understand how it all came about. I asked Schultz and he said his grandmother told him that a relentless wind haunted the conscious of wicked men and drove them mad. It _was_ quite windy last night.” 

Hogan smiled. “Seems just about as good an explanation as any, Sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2019 Short Story Speed Writing Challenge. Three prompt lines were used in this story:
> 
> You know being a prisoner of war is a very dangerous branch of the service.  
> You look like you have seen a ghost.  
> Heck, who'd believe that even in wartime?


End file.
